


the falling tree is silent

by AStrangeDaze (TerraRising)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst? Sort of?, Backstories Galore, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Historical Fantasy, How Do I Tag, M/M, Magic-Users, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraRising/pseuds/AStrangeDaze
Summary: There’s a house on top of a hill surrounded by trees that make up a forest parents warn their children away from. To some, it's the safest place in the world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaosmyths](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmyths/gifts).

> A gift to the loveliest Miss Elle, without whom this story would not exist. Please accept this humble gift for your birthday month.

There’s a house on top of a hill surrounded by trees that make up a forest parents warn their children away from.

It’s a little roughly built but lovingly made - two stories high, with a chimney always huffing out puffs of coloured smoke, the scent of something herbal but sweet lingering in the air. Around the house is a garden, with rows upon rows of vegetables planted crookedly, and a well-worn dirt path (lined by weeds one of its denizens insists are flowers) leads to the front doors.

There’s a house on the top of a hill and months ago when Seungyoun trudged his way up that crooked path when it was too dark to see the flowers, when he stumbled up to that house on a stormy night, ready to beg for just one night of shelter by a fireplace to dry out his sopping wet mess of a cloak, he never expected he might come to call it home.

But here he sits now, at a table covered with stray wood shavings, with a mug of tea he didn’t make for himself, in a house that does not belong to him but that he might one day call home. It's late, he's half-awake and fighting the call of sleep; he should turn in for the night but the odd tension in the air won't let him rest easy. He's dozing off, tracing patterns into the grain of the wooden table that spark and startle him awake again from time to time. It takes one particularly bad singe for him to retract his hands guiltily, looking around for any witnesses, heaving a sigh of relief when there is none.

Well, the lack of witnesses is what's keeping him in part.

Glancing around, Seungyoun sweeps up the wood shavings until it formed a neat pile over the singe mark. Just as he was about to admire his own clever solution, a violent bang sounds from above him and he startles, hand going for a weapon when Yohan thunders down the steps.

"I'll get it!" the young man yells, as if Seungyoun was about to fight him for that right.

He blitzes past in a flurry of badly buttoned pyjamas, wide eager grin on his face as he shoves his two feet into his boots, bolting for the door. "Grab a lamp!" Seungyoun tells after him, shaking his head fondly as Yohan stumbles backwards over his own feet to snatch one of the lanterns near the hearth.

Then he's flinging the front door open and off like a shot into the darkness with an eager shout.

"Hyung!"

Seungyoun stands, amused, knowing that it was unlikely anyone heard Yohan's greeting. Sure enough, it is another fifteen minutes before Yohan returns, all bright grins even ladden with baskets full of dried herbs.

"I keep telling you to wait till we're home, what's the use of you running half a league towards us through this damp when we're almost home anyways?" Jinhyuk sighs, noding in greeting at Seungyoun as he sheds his travel cloak, " 'Lo, Seungyoun, still up?"

Seungyoun shrugs, easy smile on his face as he reaches up gather up the cloak and hang it by the hearth to dry off, "Couldn't sleep."

"Yohan-ah! Can you come help settle the horses?"

"Coming!"

"Put a cloak on, you'll catch your death!" Jinhyuk scolds, sending Seungyoun a _ look _ when his words fall on deaf ears.

Seungyoun just laughs, pressing the mug of tea into Jinhyuk's hands instead, "You take a break, they'll be fine. Have you lot eaten?"

Jinhyuk takes the tea gratefully, waving a hand casually to dispel the stasis placed on it before taking a sip. "No, had a bite to eat in the afternoon and figured it'd tide us over till supper back home. Who knew the road back from town would be barred by Imperialists?"

Seungyoun frowns at the news, "Have they spread their net this far? How close to town?"

"Less then a half hour out, but far enough from us still," Wooseok slips into the kitchen, pushing his hood off, shaking out damp hair with a mildly disgruntled look, bumping his shoulder against Seungyoun's in greeting.

A sense of 'calm' and 'home' washed over him and Seungyoun leans his weight against Wooseok briefly in thanks as he feels the tension he hasn't realized he was holding in his shoulders start to disperse. Jinhyuk passes Wooseok the mug and he takes it easily, draining half of it in one gulp before handing it back. "I'll help them finish unloading if you can scrounge up a bite for us to eat?"

"Yohan made bread earlier while you were gone," Seungyoun offers, "And I think there's soup left still."

The two exchange looks, "Is the bread…"

"Crust is a bit charred but it looks like his best attempt yet."

"Spoken like a man who hasn't tried it," Wooseok sniffs before turning on his heel and heading back out into the yard.

"He'll eat it," Jinhyuk laughs.

Seungyoun grins, "I'll go heat up the soup."

They've got a respectable spread laid out for last-minute meal preparation by the time everyone trudges back through the door, each carrying a few crates. Hangyul in particular is carrying a rather ridiculous stack which refuses to clear the doorway. "Put it down and stop being stubborn, Gyul," Seungwoo sighs, sounding like he has repeated this upwards of five times now, "You'll just drop it all and then Wooseok will have your head. And Yohan _ please _stop egging him on."

Wooseok sniffs primly, making a bee-line for the cellar, "Seek your own vegence, hyung, it's _ your _ stuff he's carrying, not mine."

Before the impasse drags on forever, Jinhyuk strolls over and jumps up, snatching the top two crates with a deft hand and landing with nary a sound. "Set the crates down and let's eat, it's late enough as is."

"Yes hyung," the two youngsters chorus, shuffling towards the cellar as they tried to hip check the other out of the way so they could make it through the narrow doorway first.

"Honestly," Wooseok weaves past them and then turns, shoving Hangyul through the doorway gently, "Do you two never run out of energy?"

"Ah youth," Seungyoun sighs, pushing the platter with slices of bread on it towards Wooseok with a Cheshire grin, "Ready to meet your maker?"

Wooseok pulls out a chair and sits, laddling out the soup without acknowledging Seungyoun's words even as the other snickers loudly, sliding into the seat across from him. "Wooseok-ah, you were gone all day, don't I at least get a smile?"

Wooseok flashes him the world's quickest and least sincere smile before plonking a bowl of soup in front of Seungyoun followed by a slice of the afore mentioned bread, "Eat up."

Snickering to himself still, Seungyoun picks up the slice of bread and bites into it with a cheeky grin, only to freeze immediately and wince. The very air around Wooseok is triumphant even though his expression stays bland, "More bread, Seungyoun?"

"Hyung, how is it? Is it good, is it good?" Yohan bounces back into the room and plops into the seat beside Seungyoun with an expectant look.

The rest of the group settles around the table, exchanging knowing looks as Seungyoun tries to formulate a response that wouldn't upset the younger boy." Yohan-ah, is, is this a new recipe you're trying out?" Seungyoun asks instead, making a face when Seungwoo mouths the word 'coward' at him from his right.

"Yeah! I thought, maybe if I roasted the grains before mixing it into the flour, the flavour and texture would be better. How do you like it?"

Seungyoun struggles for a few moments, wondering how he could tell Yohan that whatever he had done to roast the grains had just about turned them into rock-hard pebbles, resulting in a burnt, ashy taste and giving it a gravelly crunch. His panicked silence was enough for Yohan to connect the dots, grin slowly fading as he wilted, looking terribly disappointed. "Oh… I messed up again, didn't I?"

Seungwoo elbows him at the same time that Hangyul kicks him from under the table and Jinhyuk gives him a meaningful look. "Uh, I mean, i-it's-"

"I'm sure it's fine," Wooseok cuts his stuttering reply off, reaching out to snag a slice of bread and taking a bite, expression unchanging even as the loud crunching echoes in the silent room.

"Hyung, you don't have to-" Yohan leaps up, reaching for the slice of bread even as Wooseok swallows and takes another bite.

"It's fine, maybe just a bit overbaked," he finishes the slice in two more bites under slightly incredulous stares, "Just watch how long you leave it in the oven next time, Yohan-ah."

"U-un!" Yohan nods vigorously.

He takes a slice of bread for himself, takes one bite and then grimaced, looking at Wooseok again worriedly but the other shows no sign of discomfort, raising a questioning eyebrow when Yohan continues to stare. "Well? Not eating dinner?" he asks, reaching for another slice and Yohan beams.

No one else reaches for another slice of bread, but the smile doesn't leave Yohan's face for the rest of the evening. Jinhyuk mouths an "I told you" at Seungyoun from over Wooseok's head that Wooseok politely pretends not to see. "Here, try some of the cheese we bought today," Seungwoo offers the platter to Seungyeon and he accepts with a smile.

Hangyul regales Yohan with stories of everything that happened in town today around mouthfuls of soup that he nearly burns his tongue on, and Seungyoun listens in, nodding along. At some point, Jinhyuk had disappeared from the table only to return with mugs of mulled wine, and spiced cider for the younger men in their group who immediately protested and tried to swap mugs with their hyungs. They're unsuccessful, though Seungwoo ends up being cajoled into letting them have a taste from his mug. "This is why they never listen to you when you tell them no, hyung," Jinhyuk laughs, guarding his own mug fiercely, and Seungyoun chuckles even as he swaps his half-filled mug with Hangyul's on the sly.

Wooseok quirks an eyebrow at him but says nothing and Seungyoun grins impishly in response, letting the combination of a full stomach and warm wine settle and run through his system, until warmth and contentment suffuses through his skin. He traces the rim of his mug with a lazy grin, letting the conversation rush over him.

Yes, this house and these people were starting to feel like home.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hangyul.”

There’s a soft familiar voice calling for him but Hangyul just groans, burrowing further into his blankets as he turns away from the source. He’s warm, he’s comfortable, he’s safe here, there’s no reason for him to move.

“Gyul-ah,” the voice comes again, closer still but not touching.

The slight urgency Hangyul detects brings him out of his slumber and he peeks one eye open. The sun is barely visible above the horizon but Yohan is already fully dressed for the day, perched on his bed in their shared room. They had long since pushed the twin beds together to make room for all the knickknacks they had collected over the years and Hangyul can instantly see that Yohan’s side of the bed is already perfectly made, which makes it all the more tempting to roll over until he musses up the neatly folded blankets.

“Hey!”

“It’s early still,” Hangyul mumbles against Yohan’s knee, unwilling to move when he doesn’t have to, “Why are you up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Yohan’s knee starts bouncing and Hangyul grumbles, shifting to rest his head directly upon Yohan’s leg to try and still the jitters though he’s wide awake suddenly, “I’m just a little on edge.”

“On edge?” he questions, voice sharp.

“No, not like that silly,” Yohan’s hand cards through his hair and he relaxes at both the touch and the clarification, “I’m just…restless I suppose.”

“Any of the hyungs up?”

“I think so, I heard the kettle whistling earlier.”

“Breakfast then?”

“All you think about is food,” Yohan complains good-naturedly, withdrawing his hand with one last mischievous tug to Hangyul’s hair, “Will you get up now?”

“In a moment,” Hangyul nuzzles his face against the soft cotton of Yohan’s pants, grunting in complaint when the other shifts so that he can slip out from underneath him.

“Fine, I’ll head down first then.”

Hangyul yawns in response; there was no use talking Yohan into being still when he was having the jitters, and if the hyungs were up then he could rest easy knowing someone could keep Yohan occupied. He could sleep for just a few minutes longer, just a few minutes longer…

* * *

Some nights Jinhyuk dreams of fire. 

Vibrant flames, as hungry as they were volatile, ready to devour everything around him whole. Even when he returns to the waking world, he can smell the remnants of ash on his skin, can feel the crackling heat of flames across his skin and grit of soot between his fingers. He exhales slowly before he opens his eyes to find Wooseok's steady gaze on him from across the pillow. 

"Good morning," he whispers, reaching out a hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of the other's eye. 

"What were you dreaming about?" is Wooseok's quiet question in lieu of a greeting. 

"Fire," Jinhyuk responds, stubbornly honest even though he already knows that the answer would cause Wooseok's face to twist into a grimace. 

"I wish you didn't," he admits, lips twisting in a way that Jinhyuk wished wasn’t because of him, voice a soft sigh into the space between them. 

When it was just the two of them in the early hours of morning, Wooseok was always more forthcoming. Jinhyuk shuffles closer, breathing in the scent of the lavender soap Seungwoo makes for Wooseok to soothe his dreams. "It's in the past now," he says instead, tapping Wooseok's nose playfully, laughing as the other scrunched it, disgruntled, but at least that look disappeared from his face. 

Jinhyuk doesn't tell Wooseok that the worst part of the dream is when he cannot find him in the fire. The building panic as the flames lick his skin and he's choking on the thickening fumes, eyes stinging from the smoke as he searches desperately for Wooseok, knowing he is still in the building but not within Jinhyuk's reach no matter how desperately he scours the grounds, skin blistering from the heat. The two of them burning alive, separated, as everything crumbles under the force of the fire around them. 

That is what haunts his dreams. 

But reality reminds him that is not the fact and so he breathes easily again, there was no need for any regrets. Perhaps he should try Seungwoo's lavender soaps as well to find an escape from these nightmares, but he much preferred the scent of them from Wooseok's hair and skin. He reaches further to pull Wooseok into his arms, burying his nose into the other’s hair and taking in a deep breath.

He can feel Wooseok rolling his eyes even though he goes easily with the movement. “Time to get up,” he reminds Jinhyuk even though the other only holds him closer.

“In a minute.”

“You’re supposed to make breakfast today.”

“None of them rise earlier than the sun.”

Wooseok slips out of his arms easily and straightens his nightshirt, heading towards the bathroom, reminding Jinhyuk once again that it was near impossible for anyone to hold onto Wooseok against his will. “Don’t you remember what day it is today?”

Jinhyuk flops over and groans, “That time of the week again?”

“Precisely,” Wooseok’s voice is warped slightly by the turn of the hallway, “And it’s your turn to keep watch.”

Jinhyuk groans even louder, met only with Wooseok’s answering laugh. “Solis is supposed to be a day of rest!” he calls.

“For everyone else, maybe,” Wooseok quips, coming back with a warm towel that he lobs onto Jinhyuk’s face and he takes the offering with a mumbled thank you, scrubbing at his skin, “since when have we followed convention?”

“Never, but it doesn’t mean I don’t yearn for a day of rest.”

“Rest is for the dead,” Wooseok deadpans, pulling on a fresh tunic and breezing out of the room, “I’ll start the kettle for you, but that’s all I’m doing.”

“Gods all bless your magnanimity!”

Wooseok snorts, “Keep your blessings and keep your gods, I have no use for them.”

* * *

“Oh god, what is that _smell_?” Hangyul all but shouts from the top of the stairs.

Wooseok rolls his eyes, snorting even as he concentrates on sorting through his latest correspondence. “You know what it is,” he calls back, “Stop being a dramatic child and come down, breakfast is getting cold.”

Hangyul lumbers down the steps moments later, face pulled into an expression of disgust that Wooseok ignores even as the younger man sits himself down at the table heavily. The older man wordlessly nudges a plate towards him and Hangyul scarfs down the food without even bothering with utensils, much to Wooseok’s displeasure.

“We own forks for a reason.”

“My hands are fine,” Hangyul half mumbles around a mouthful and Wooseok’s nose crinkles minutely.

“For sandwiches perhaps, not scrambled eggs.”

The younger man just shovels the last bit of food into his mouth, chewing noisily and wiping his hands on his shirt, “Finished! When is Seungwoo hyung done with the brewing? Are we expecting someone?”

“Midday,” Wooseok sighs, “And just the usual rabble.”

“Yohan?” Hangyul jumps to his feet, pushing the chair back with a noisy clatter as he stretches, biting back a belch at the _look_ Wooseok shoots him.

“In the garden.”

“Jinhyuk hyung?”

“Rooftops.”

“Seungyoun hyung?”

“Out, stables I believe.”

Wooseok’s answers are quick and to the point, no nonsense as usual, though he never dismisses Hangyul’s need to know where everyone was. Satisfied, Hangyul cracks his neck and then grins, “I guess I’ll go make myself useful then?”

“See to it that you do,” Wooseok finally looks up again, folding the letter in his hands into thirds and slipping it into an envelope that he seals and presses into Hangyul’s hands with the faintest smile, “Drop that off before noon for me, will you?”

“Alright hyung,” he agrees, mentally calculating when he needs to leave so that he can make it to the outpost before the mail collector arrived and still be home before Seungwoo hyung’s _guests_ dropped by, “And Seungwoo hyung…”

Wooseok rises and unlike Hangyul his chair doesn’t seem to so much as squeak with the movement. “I’ll take breakfast down to him,” the older man announces, picking up the only other plate let unattended on the table, “and I’ll crank the windows open, he likely forgot again; the place should be aired out by noon.”

Hangyul flashes Wooseok a lopsided grin, rubbing at his nose, “Thanks hyung.”

* * *

The sudden flood of light has Seungwoo blinking rather rapidly, eyes having long adjusted to just the light the flames underneath his cauldron was giving off and a flickering lamp along the walls. “What?”

“The sun has risen, hyung, do keep up.” Wooseok sighs, throwing the curtains to yet another set of windows open before cranking the windows open as well.

“I know the sun is up.”

A plate with two slices of toast and scrambled eggs is shoved towards him and he accepts it instinctively. “Then you should know it’s time to eat and that the sun provides natural lighting so you can stop torturing your poor eyes.”

Seungwoo munches on the warm toast as he settles into a chair, watching with bemused eyes as Wooseok busies himself with airing out the workroom. “Did Hangyul complain again?”

“Bellowed from the top of the stairs,” Wooseok’s tone is droll and a direct contradiction to his actions, “Would it kill you to open a window?”

“The fumes were unstable earlier,” Seungwoo protests, grinning at Wooseok’s unimpressed look.

“The runes you had Seungyoun carve around the window frames were a waste of time then? I’ll be sure to tell him that, he’ll be so please to know his efforts were appreciated deeply.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t forget next time,” Seungwoo placates, “I just keep forgetting they’re there, it’s been less than a month.”

Wooseok doesn’t answer, only wanders closer to the cauldron and takes a discreet whiff before pulling a face, “Oh Nyssa, that reeks. Am I ever glad I’m not one of _your_ patients.”

“It’s Smuggler’s Brew, what did you expect sticking your nose into it?”

“That my memory of how terrible it stinks was exaggerated,” Wooseok’s answer is muffled into his sleeve as he breathes into his elbow instead, glaring at the cauldron as if it had personally offended him, “Clearly, I was mistaken.”

“I don’t know why you thought it would be better than you remembered it to be,” Seungwoo chuckles, “You’ve tasted it, and _that_ memory sticks with you forever.”

“Again, I’m glad I’m not your patient.”

“You mean you’re glad I’ll treat you regardless of if you drink the brew,” Seungwoo corrects.

“What point is there in drinking that when I live here?” Wooseok sniffs and then sneezes violently, casting another aggrieved glance at the bubbling concoction even as Seungwoo guffaws; the younger man looks about as threatening as an offended kitten though anyone to takes him for one is a fool, "You know, we could just make this entire estate unplottable, skip the whole Smuggler's Brew business."

"An unplottable clinic would defeat the purpose of running it in the first place," Seungwoo chides, "And between you and Jinhyuk and now Seungyoun, we're already warded so tightly I'm surprised anyone can find us."

"Maybe that's the point."

“We're not having this argument again. Go on, I’m almost finished here and then I promise I’ll ventilate properly,” Seungwoo steps forward to ruffle Wooseok’s hair fondly, laughing again at the irritated look he gets for messing up Wooseok’s hair.

He still turns to go though he sends a pointed look towards the plate in Seungwoo’s hands and the older man gamely takes another bite of toast, motion exaggerated as if to say _See? I’m eating!_ Wooseok disappears around the corner as silently as he came and Seungwoo turns back to survey his stock. The fire under the cauldron flickers into nothingness with a wave of his hand and his eyes flick from shelf to shelf, tallying the vials and jars as he finishes his breakfast.

Burn salve then, he decides, already striding towards his stores to pluck out the necessary herbs, there was only one jar left and fire spells was always so volatile. And if he wasn’t mistaken, one of the villages had a new apprentice blacksmith, he’d bet anything his master needed to stock up by now. Ladling out the Smuggler’s Brew into the rather ridiculous silver chalice Seungyoun had bought for this very purpose, Seungwoo sets the cauldron aside to cool while putting another on top of the fire, glancing out the window to see clear skies. If he was lucky, the worst he'd have to treat would be some minor cuts and burns, maybe a cold or two. His mind flashes back to the Imperialists they had nearly run into a fortnight ago while on the road, hand clenching compulsively around the blade he used to prepare herbs.

If they were lucky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some guests are expected, and others are not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Belated Birthday Elle! I mean the entire thing is for you anyways and I meant to post on your actual birthday but then I fucked off to a cottage and didn't have time to write for the actual date so here we are now? Inching towards the actual plot in gradual increments bc I suck at getting to the point. ANYWAYS, I love you, happy birthday xoxo

Hangyul makes it back to the house just in time to see Seungwoo hyung’s guests about to arrive, the first patron’s silhouette just cresting over the hill over yonder. That’s another fifteen minutes till arrival at least, and he drops by the yard to find Yohan just as alert as he is, a swift hand gathering his gardening tools as he keeps an eye on the road, not that Yohan ever needed that to know where someone was.

“You done?” Hangyul lumbers closer, careful not to accidentally step on any plants lest he wants to invite Yohan’s ire again and then he’d have to deal with a sulking friend and disappointed hyungs.

“Just about.”

Yohan hands Hangyul the basket of greens he’s harvested as he hefts the hemp bag with tools onto a shoulder, and the two of them head towards the house, stopping quickly to deposit the tools by the cellar entrance. Yohan slips inside first and Hangyul follows quickly after him, casting another glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was about before he shut the door, bolted it, and then activated the runes just to be safe. Seungwoo hyung would likely sigh and throw exasperated looks at them all once he gets back from his guests and grumble under his breath about them being the most paranoid lot he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting, but Hangyul knows he’ll only get approval from the rest of the hyungs, Jinhyuk hyung especially.

It takes a split second for the wards to spring to life and Hangyul can feel a shifting in the air, a static that hums centimetres from where his fingers hover above the doorframe and will stay alarmed until one of them disengaged the runes. Satisfied, he joins Yohan in the kitchen, the two of them setting about washing the vegetables and soaking them in preparation for dinner.

“You put up the wards?” Seungyoun hyung skulks into the kitchen, clutching an empty mug of something that has left him bright-eyed and twitchy.

“Mmm,” Hangyul pauses to flick water at Yohan who ducks instinctively and glares, flicking a soggy piece of lettuce at his face in retaliation.

“The others?”

“Jinhyuk hyung is on watch,” Yohan cuts in before Hangyul can get a single word out, dumping the colander with the washed lettuce into Hangyul’s arms and bouncing out towards the west wing, “I’m going to go help Seungwoo hyung!”

“I’m guessing Wooseok is with Seungwoo as well then,” Seungyoun muses, eyebrow raised, “Need a hand?”

“Hyung,” Hangyul stops to stare at Seungyoun seriously, “Do you even know what to do?”

He laughs and dances out of the way of Seungyoun’s answering swat. “Cheeky brat,” Seungyoun grumbles, rolling his sleeves up and out of the way, “You honestly think I survived by myself for this long without learning how to cook?”

“Hyung, cooking over an open fire isn’t the same as cooking in a kitchen,” Hangyul intones, “Wasn’t that what you said about _my_ cooking just last week?”

“Shocking, considering you learned to cook in _this_ kitchen.”

“I’m making the salad,” Hangyul huffs, “You can do everything else.”

“Brat,” Seungyoun can’t help reiterating, tone fond despite himself.

Hangyul throws a squash at him in response and Seungyoun makes a face knowing that he’s going to be stuck peeling vegetables and chopping meat for the foreseeable future. Sure enough, Hangyul throws ingredient after ingredient at him for the next half hour after he’s finished with his salad, insisting that Seungyoun ought to continue with the bulk of the work considering he clearly was a deft hand at it. He’s in the middle of teaching Hangyul how to fillet a fish when the younger man suddenly freezes, every muscle in his body tensed up and head snapping to the left, staring unerringly down the hallway leading to the west wing. There’s an echoing bang of a door opened too abruptly and then Yohan stumbles into view, unsteady on his feet but moving as quickly as he can to get away from gods know what and quite determined to head up the stairs despite looking more likely to tumble down them if he tried.

“What-“

The knife in Hangyul’s hand clatters loudly unto the chopping board as he drops everything at once and rushes towards Yohan to scoop him up into his arms. Within seconds he’s whisked Yohan up the stairs and away from prying eyes, and Seungyoun is left standing wide-eyed in the kitchen, wondering exactly what has just transpired.

Seconds later, a young man with wild brown curls, wide eyes, and slightly floppy ears whom Seungyoun has never seen before comes running down the hallway with a cry of “hyung!”, heels dogged closely by Wooseok who looks as close to thunderous as Seungyoun has ever seen. “What-” Seungyoun starts again only to be cut off.

“Seungyoun, please so see to our _guest_,” Wooseok decisively corrals the young man away from the stairs and into the sitting area by the hearth.

“But!”

Any futher protests on their guest’s tongue withers into nothing as he cows under Wooseok’s stoney gaze and Seungyoun cleans his hands hastily of blood, drying them on his trousers before hurrying over to supervise their errant guest. Wooseok passes by him, hand resting briefly on his forearm as he gives Seungyoun a meaningful look that Seungyoun wishes he understood more of before disappearing up the stairs.

“Well,” Seungyoun clears his throat and does his best to look stern, turning his attention to the clearly cowed teenager sitting gingerly upon one of the couches by the heart, “I suppose that leaves us to get acquainted then.”

* * *

In retrospect, he should have stepped in earlier and Seungwoo kicks himself mentally over and over again for his lax attentions.

The blacksmith and his new apprentice had made an appearance as he anticipated, hovering at the end of the line as the villagers from the settlements closest to them slowly trickled in, queueing up at the side door to his workshop Seungwoo made accessible to the public just for these occasions. There used to be a time when the side door was a matter of convenience and not security, but that was a thing of the past once he started to share his home with his current companions.

He had dispensed several potions for coughs and mixed poultices for strained muscles, checked on the cast of one farmer who had broken his leg two weeks back, and passed on the monthly herbal remedy for an elderly grandmother’s aching joints by the time that the blacksmith and his apprentice reached him. Wooseok was as ever a shadow in the corner of a room, quietly rearranging the shelves even as his gaze lingered on everyone and everything, a presence easily overlooked by all while Yohan happily flitted to and fro in the room, handing Seungwoo anything he called for. Yohan was a bright boy, in personality and in looks, and seeing him interact with the villagers always left Seungwoo with a pang of regret that despite everything, a normal life was not one that he could provide for the boy.

“Healer Han,” the blacksmith greeted him a little gruffly but with a deep bow that his apprentice hastily mimicked, wide eyes locked disbelievingly on some point behind Seungwoo, “have you been well?”

“As well as I have ever been, and I trust that you have been well aswell?” Seungwoo nodded his head in greeting, eyes alighting on the healing burn marks on the apprentice’s hands and forearms, “Your usual order of burn salve?”

“Please, and your keen eye for the healing burn on the young one’s palm.”

“Of course,” Seungwoo agreed obligingly, reaching for the apprentice’s loosely bandaged hand which he gave shakily, still staring at everything around them with wide eyes, “I will need to undo these bandages to examine your hand, please tell me if I cause you any pain so I can stop.”

“Y-yes,” the young man stuttered while snapping to attention, nodding frantically and sending those loose curls of his flopping against his forehead, looking not unlike an overly agreeable puppy, “I mean, yessir!”

“At ease,” Seungwoo chuckled, “I am no sir or noble, merely a healer with humble origins, you need not stand at ceremony. Now, sit and let me see that hand of your’s.”

The bandages fell away to reveal angry looking burns and Seungwoo hissed in sympathy, “Child, what did you do? Try to pick up hot iron with your bare hands?”

At the wide-eyed, shame-filled wince he received, it seemed he was not far from the truth. “I-I….” the young man trailed off, quailing under Seungwoo’s gaze.

“Someone filled his head with impossible ideas about what it means to be fire-gifted,” his master came to his answer sounding every bit as exasperated as Seungwoo felt.

“Well,” Seungwoo sighed, “it’s not entirely impossible, but definitely not for a novice. Young man, you ought to listen to your master’s instructions! You could have crippled your hands forever.”

“Yes…”

“At least you’ll think twice next time,” he shook his head, fingers gently prodding at the surrounding skin this way and that, ghosting over the wound itself, “Yohan-ah, would you fetch the blaze balm? Regular burn salve won’t do for this.”

“Right away hyung!”

The apprentice sat rammod straight, eyeing Yohan incredulously when he returned promptly, having been handed the correct jar by Wooseok and thus sparred from rummaging through the shelves, “Here you are! Anything else, hyung?”

“Some fresh bandages if you please? Something breathable, thank you Yohan.”

“Of course!” Yohan had beamed, delighted to be helpful as always.

He makes to two step away this time before the apprentice speaks, voice tremulous and eyes suspiciously watery, “Y-Yohan hyung? Is that really you?”

Yohan froze turning slowly despite himself and Seungwoo could feel the weight of Wooseok’s gaze on them then, assessing and evaluating whether the apprentice was a threat. “Hyung,” the young man called out, hand reaching out as he strained to grip Yohan’s sleeve, “Hyung, do, do you recognize me?”

Yohan stood, tense, hands shaking no matter how hard he willed them to still, breathing picking up audibly, staring at the apprentice with a hungry gaze that was equal parts ravenous and panicked even as the blood visibly drains from his face. “….Hyunbin,” the name that slips from Yohan’s lips is barely a whisper and tinged with disbelief.

“It really is you!” the apprentice lurches off his feet, rushing towards Yohan who stumbles backwards, “I can’t believe it! Are you alone? Are any of the others with you?”

“You’re alive,” Yohan sounds as it a strong breeze will knock him over, prompting Seungwoo to shake off his shock and move to his side.

“Yohan-ah-”

“Hyung, are you-”

“I, I can’t, I-” Yohan backs away, breath coming in harsh pants now, fast and shallow, “I- I’m sorry!”

He bolts.

“Hyung!” the apprentice moves to follow him and is immediately tailed by Wooseok, leaving Seungwoo alone with his patients and a confused blacksmith as the door leading to the rest of the house slams shut behind them.

Slowly Seungwoo turns back to face the blacksmith, an imperceptible look on his face, “Blacksmith Su, where did you say you picked up this apprentice of your’s again?”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote 95% of this on my phone while on a plane and am still editing on my phone. Apologies for any typos and mistakes, as well as the lack of tagging, will update once I have access to a laptop again.
> 
> Comments make this author's day! Please consider leaving me a few words 💕


End file.
